


Clean Hands and Clean Collars

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Collars, D/s themes, Dubious Consent, M/M, as in will hates this but doesnt say no idek why, collaring, very dubious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-22 00:33:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For Adrienne (dropples.tumblr.com), as per usual, who received art of Will in a collar which prompted talk of Hannibal collaring Will.<br/>The moral of the story here is don't talk to Adrienne unless you're ready to have like ten million fic ideas flying through your head by the end of the night.</p><p>Also this was written at 3am so please don't hate me if it's the worst thing you've ever read.</p><p>The title is taken from a John Burts quote (idek either ok i was desperate)</p></blockquote>





	Clean Hands and Clean Collars

“On your knees,” Hannibal says, and Will obeys immediately, dropping to the ground with an audible thump, and sitting back on his heels. Instinctively, he folds his hands together in his lap, and lowers his eyes to observe them as he picks at his left thumbnail anxiously.

Hannibal makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat, and moves away from the kneeling man. He rustles around in the desk, opening drawers and closing them angrily when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for. 

Finally, he finishes by going back to stand in front of Will, and, careful not to touch him, holds his hand in front of Will’s face. Will inhales sharply and closes his eyes, the feeling of proximity without any payoff, the anticipation of it screwing with his mind. He feels the hand move closer, close enough that he can feel the heat from Dr. Lecter’s palm on his face.

His skin crawls.

“Where do you keep the dogs’ collars?” Hannibal asks, his slightly accented voice steady, neutral. Indifferent.

Will lets out a shaky breath, and feels the air gust back into his face, bouncing off the other the other man’s hand.

“In the entryway,” he says, and his voice is the polar opposite of Hannibal’s; quiet, shaky, scared.

“Stay,” Hannibal commands, and suddenly the heat in front of his face is gone. Will relaxes slightly, opening his eyes but keeping them lowered.

Hannibal is back soon, the clinking sound of the tags on the collar accompanying him and announcing his return. Will tenses up again when he stops directly in front of him, close enough that Will can see his perfectly polished dress shoes.

Suddenly there are fingers under his chin, forcing his head back, and Will keeps his eyes lowered as best he can. At this angle, though, that just means that he can see Hannibal’s cold smirk as he crouches down in front of him.

A hand snakes around behind his neck, grabbing hold of the collar, and Hannibal buckles it snugly around his throat. Will swallows, testing what he’s able to do in the accessory, and it rests as a heavy, unpleasant weight against his Adam’s apple. 

Hannibal smiles a terrifying, predatory smile that makes Will shiver, and steps back.

“Good boy.” He says, and Will wants to throw up.

**Author's Note:**

> For Adrienne (dropples.tumblr.com), as per usual, who received art of Will in a collar which prompted talk of Hannibal collaring Will.  
> The moral of the story here is don't talk to Adrienne unless you're ready to have like ten million fic ideas flying through your head by the end of the night.
> 
> Also this was written at 3am so please don't hate me if it's the worst thing you've ever read.
> 
> The title is taken from a John Burts quote (idek either ok i was desperate)


End file.
